


The Truth of My Dreams

by boromiiir (macdye)



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Dreams, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macdye/pseuds/boromiiir
Summary: The first time he has one of these dreams, he doesn't quite even remember it when he wakes up. After the fourth time, he understands that the dream is becoming a recurrent one. It's fine, because Okada likes it.





	The Truth of My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go! This is my first NJPW published fanfic, so I hope you'll like it.
> 
> I apologize for anyone being out of character or for any mistakes with my grammar, but sadly I had no beta-reader. (If you want to help me for the upcoming fics, feel free to drop a message [on my tumblr](http://boromiiir.tumblr.com)! Requests are welcome too.)

The first time he has one of these dreams, he doesn’t quite even remember it when he wakes up; there’s a faint feeling lingering all day long, something that makes him smile stupidly at empty spaces or just be happy with his whole life in general, but he can’t quite put a finger on why.

The second time, Okada realizes he’s dreaming even before actually waking up. He sees himself rolling around in his small bed, wondering about what time it is, and there’s another body next to his, cuddling close. It feels nice, but it’s confusing, since he’s not dating anyone at the moment. Did he have a one night stand that he forgot about?

That’s when it strikes him -- he’s dreaming. He can’t read the time on his phone’s screen, and the walls are kinda blurry and he can’t focus on who’s with him. And just as he thinks about how to turn this dream around so he could control it, his alarm rings and he wakes up, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before turning it off. He’s sad when the memories vanish by themselves before the morning’s over, even when he tries to summon some bits of the dream.

After the fourth time, he understands that the dream is becoming a recurrent one. He can now remember some parts, like how satisfied he was to hold the other person in his arms, or how good it felt to have some sort of peaceful intimacy with someone.

Night after night, dream after dream, pieces fall together, slowly. Okada likes the ‘hide and seek’ sentiment of the whole thing, and since it doesn’t stop him from doing his work correctly, it’s not a bother.

The things he grasps, are such : the other person is a man, japanese, smaller than Okada is, and he’s got a nice laugh; they’re not in bed naked but in their underwears, he can see a city through the window, can’t pinpoint if the bed’s in the middle of the room or next to a wall, and that the entirety of the moment always leaves him feeling content and at peace.

So, he likes it. During the day, he doesn’t think about it much, but when he slips into bed, pulling the sheets over himself and closing his eyes, he hopes he’ll have the dream again.

 

 

One night, he opens his eyes to find he’s not alone; there’s a body next to him, in his bed. He blinks, thinks. Ah, no, it’s the dream again. He could almost believe that he’s awake, but once more things are blurry on the edges and he can’t read the time nor anything written would it be on his phone or on the notices on the walls.

“You’re awake?”

The whisper startles Okada more than he would admit; never before has the man from the dream spoken to him. Blinking, he turns around, and is a bit disappointed when the other person is actually facing the other way. No seeing his face once again.

“It’s nothing, go back to sleep,” he whispers back, moving closer and cuddling to the warm body lying by his side. He slips his arm around a strong chest, pulls the other man closer, and buries his face into soft skin, just under his lover’s hairline. It smells nice, with a very light undertone of sweat, but a pure scent of just skin and some fruity soap or shampoo.

“Nightmare?”

Okada shakes his head. He doesn’t know whether to be spooked or in awe of the quality of this particular dream. “Nah, don’t worry.”

The man takes his hand, kisses his knuckles softly. “You know I’m here, right?”

“Of course.” Okada rubs his nose into his lover’s hair, chuckles when he mumbles about it tickling. “Why are  _ you _ awake though?”

“Was thinking about my match.”

Ah, so it’s a fellow wrestler? It should sound like a concern to Okada, but he doesn’t find the strength to care. He’s fine where he is, and it’s just a dream. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. We should sleep.”

Okada’s fine with that.

The dream starts to vanish, and just before it goes away entirely, he hears the other man mumbling. “I won’t lose the title to him anyway.”

The alarm clock is ringing when Okada wakes up with a start, almost choking on his breath.

_ I won’t lose the title to him. _

_ The title. _

What title?

As he gets up and locks himself in the tiny bathroom, thoughts run wild through his mind -- a wrestler? One of the other champions? What is happening? Is he actually lusting for one of the guys without even realising it? Should he be worried? He makes a mental note to check who’s going to defend their title soon, because he is curious, and lets the shower spray erase all traces of the night from him, for now.

 

 

His working day goes on as usual, with interviews, training, good food, chats with his fellow Chaos members, and schedule planning. He doesn’t think about the dream anymore.

As the evening rolls by, everybody in the hotel gather for food, in factions or just with friends. Okada, sat in one of the armchairs in the lobby, is waiting for Sho and Yoh, who’re supposed to show him a new place in town where the food is, so they say, the best ever; next to him, Rocky is playing on his phone, and in front of them Tanahashi and Goto are talking rather animatedly, though he can’t quite hear them. He sighs, scans the rest of the lobby, and smiles to himself -- this might be the only place where all groups mingle and talk without any of the animosity from the ring. Bullet Clubs members playing on a Nintendo Switch, guys from Suzuki-gun trying to decide where to go for a drink, Ibushi and Ospreay laughing about their upcoming match…

Okada freezes, thinks.

The guy about his dream talked about a title, right? And isn’t Ibushi defending the Never Openweight belt against Will? He makes a face -- no, it wouldn’t be Ibushi, if only because the guy’s not in anyway smaller than Okada is. Also, he doesn’t quite feel attracted to the man; he looks great, that’s for sure, but he’s not really his type.

Who else then? It has to be a Japanese guy, so that doesn’t leave a lot of people.

It’s only when Tanahashi waves at someone who just appeared from the elevator that Okada’s mind actually connects the dots; he watches as a small guy waves back and almost runs to Tana before excusing himself for the delay, curses himself for not guessing earlier.

Of course.

_ Kushida. _

He stares some more as the two Taguchi Japan members say their goodbyes to Goto and leave the building, sighing once they’re out. Yeah, of course. If he had been honest with himself, he could have seen this coming since their first 4 on 4 tag-team match against the Bullet Club. He always thought Kushida was cute, but fighting alongside the man was something else altogether.

Thankfully, Sho finally shows up and stops his thoughts right there. They leave too with Yoh and Rocky, and spend a very nice dinner. The food is indeed delicious, and Okada is happy about the whole evening.

 

 

When he comes back to his hotel room, it’s almost midnight. The two beers he’s had are making his head buzz pleasantly, just a faint tingling sensation as he lets himself fall on his bed; he feels great. The lights are still off, and when he turns his head he can see the lights from the city. It pulls him back to his dreams, and to the maybe-not-so-shocking revelation of who the mystery man might be -- and he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

So what if he finds Kushi super adorable and good looking? It’s fine! His brain wants to pick this piece of information and make nice fantasies about it? Alright! It’s not like he would go to the other man’s room and declare his undying love to him, right? So, no problems.

No problems, at all.

Well.

“Damn it.” His frustrated growl sounds far too loud in the near-empty room.

Now that he thought about it, without going all ‘eternal love’ and ‘heart emojis everywhere’, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a fling. It’s not a good idea, he supposes, but they’re grown men, and they can be discreet. Besides, his dreams have left him longing for more, even though he doubts that real life can be as sweet as his imagination.

“Whatever,” he mumbles as he fishes his phone out of his jeans’ pocket, unlocking the screen and searching through his contacts for Kushida’s number -- he got it ages ago though, so he hopes it’s still the good one. Without letting himself think about it too much, he types out a quick message, asking the other man if he’s having a great night and if he wants to swing by his room for a beer before heading to bed.

When the reply finally comes -- and Okada is quite pleased that it took less than five minutes -- Kushida is agreeing to it with a lot of smiley face emojis. It almost sounds too good to be true, but when another reply comes with a string of beer and drinking emojis, Okada guesses that he’s not the only one who’s slightly tipsy.

 

 

It’s half an hour later when someone knocks on the door, and Okada is quick to get up. When he opens the door, Kushida’s standing there with an infectious grin, cheeks a bit red.

“Please tell me you also have sodas, because if I drink more than one other beer, I might actually end up drunk.”

Okada laughs and lets him in, gesturing to the vague direction of the mini-fridge. “Well, we don’t have to drink alcohol if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be nice to hang out.”

One glass of orange juice later, they’re both sitting on opposite sides of the room, Kushida on a chair and Okada on the bed, chatting about Wrestle Kingdom coming up and how much of an asshole Jay White is; it’s simple and it feels easy, until there’s a lull in the conversation and Kushida’s scratching at his beanie with a frown.

“Say, Okada-kun… Why did you invite me?”

Okada almost chokes on his drink. “Well, uh, because I thought it’d be nice?”

“You said that already.” The other man starts playing with a pen that’s on the desk next to him, and Okada wonders if he messed up by being so straightforward. “I’m just surprised you didn’t call one of Chaos instead of me. I would even have expected you to call Tana, rather than me.”

“I guess I could have,” Okada shrugs, “but I wanted to spend time with you. You’re a cool guy, and I quite like you.” Might as well be truthful about this all.

Kushida squints at him. “You quite like me, uh?” When he grins, Okada can feel his own cheeks warming up. “I quite like you too, Okada-kun. You’re a great fighter and a good person.”

Ah, so cute. No wonder his brain picked this precise person to fantasize about.

“Actually,” Okada says, rubbing at his short hair and looking down, “I was wondering if you’d like us to hang out more together?” 

“Sure, why not. That could be fun!”

When Okada looks up, Kushida is smiling at him, all in kindness and sparkly eyes. He guesses that’s what triggers his mouth, because next think he knows he’s asking, “but as a date?”

The smile on Kushida’s face fades a bit, replaced by surprise, and a pretty shade of pink is gracing his cheeks. Clearly, he didn’t expect that, and Okada is half proud of his little effect, half embarrassed of saying such things out loud. He blames it on the beers he drank earlier, but knows very well that he’s not even tipsy anymore. It’s even more embarrassing when the silence stretches out, and they’re both fidgeting and not quite looking at each other; Okada wonders if he can apologize, and maybe take back his words, pretending it was a joke, but Kushida surprises him by standing up.

“I-- yeah, okay,” he stutters, looking at everything but Okada. “I think I’d really-- well I’d like that.”

Okada feels like his birthday and Christmas have both come up on the same day. His face lights up and before he can stop himself he’s standing up too, giggling. “Yeah? That’s great!”

Kushida’s chuckling, and it’s adorable, and Okada thinks that he’d like to kiss him now, so he asks if he can. The other man blinks up, taken aback. “Are you… Asking for permission?”

“Of course.”

“That’s… Very considerate.” Kushida grins and adds, “but to be honest, I’d be more insulted if you  _ didn’t _ kiss me right now.”

So he does, because there’s no way he wants Kushida to feel insulted -- and also because he wants to see if reality’s as good as his dreams.

Turns out, as their lips touch and as his arms pull the other man close against him, it’s even better than he expected. It feels natural and sweet, even though a bit awkward at first, the angle not helping. When he pulls back, they’re both grinning at each other.

“That was nice, but my neck is going to hurt.”

“Yeah, mine too. Should we act like silly teenagers and make out on the bed?”

Pretending to consider it, Kushida actually pushes Okada until his knees bump into the mattress and he has no choice but to sit on it. In turn, he pulls at Kushida’s hand until he’s indisputably on his lap, his knees on each side of Okada’s thighs. They kiss once more; Okada takes Kushida’s beanie off and buries his fingers in his hair, making a satisfied sound upon discovering that they’re not full of the usual hair gel Kushida soaks them in to make his mohawk hold. Kushida retaliates by slightly pulling on Okada’s hair until the angle of their kiss pleases him. It’s perfect.

“I do hope you don’t expect to sleep much this night,” Kushida whispers between kisses.

Okada frowns. “Ah-- well-- I  _ do _ have to get up before 7 tomorrow morning?”

“Oh. Shouldn’t you go to bed then?”

Okada shrugs; he knows he should, but now that he’s in this position it feels like a heartbreak to let go of his newly found… Date? Boyfriend? Whatever they are, he doesn’t want to move, but Kushida takes the decision from him. “Fine, rain check on the making out then.” He grabs his beanie back and pulls it on his head with an exaggerated face, then quickly pecks at Okada’s lips before getting off his lap. Okada starts whining at that.

“Don’t worry, we’ll see each other tomorrow. For now, go to bed? Besides, we can text each other later.”

“If you say so…” With a pout, Okada walks Kushida to the door. “Next time, let’s start earlier.”

They both laugh at that. “Yeah, okay, whatever Okada-kun wants.”

“Oh please, stop with the honorifics or I’m gonna be mad.”

Kushida grins. “Very well,  _ Kazuchika _ .”

The way his first name sounds, when said like that, makes Okada wants to kiss the other man even more, so he does so, before being batted away.

“Enough, enough, or I’ll never leave! Good night!”

With a blinding smile Kushida’s out and away, and Okada closes the door knowing that now he has something better than dreams : the real stuff.

He can’t wait for the next date.

 


End file.
